


Solace of the Sun

by Foarrin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ron Weasley Bashing, Tags May Change, Unplanned Pregnancy, Werewolf Turning, disinherited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foarrin/pseuds/Foarrin
Summary: It is seventh year. Hermione is pregnant with Ron's baby, which he doesn't want. Draco is in his first year of transition as a werewolf. Hermione and Draco are Head Girl and Boy. In such close quarters, maybe they'll find that the comfort they both need will come from each other.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 24
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story completely ignores Deathly Hallows. The ending of Half Blood Prince is also altered. Instead of Dumbledore getting killed, Draco's necklace, poisoned alcohol, etc. attempts simply did not work. Snape did not make an Unbreakable Vow, so he did not kill Dumbledore for Draco.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Ron recoiled as if Hermione had just told him to eat a Dungbomb. He straightened up from packing a pair of socks and a bag of Pig's owl treats into his already full trunk. It was the last day of term, and they were supposed to be boarding the train in less than twenty minutes. Yes, Ron was still packing. The rest of the Gryffindor sixth year boys had already left for the entrance hall. Well, all except Harry, who was somewhere having a last minute meeting with Dumbledore.

"You're what?" Ron asked with wide eyes.

"I'm pregnant," Hermione repeated.

She had known for a little over a week but had decided not to tell Ron until after exams were over. She had told Harry, Ginny, and Luna a few days ago. Her letter explaining the situation to Mrs. Weasley was already on its way and would beat Ron home. So, she had to tell him. It was definitely last minute, but she refused to let him hear it from his mother or in a letter she would have undoubtedly sent later that summer.

"No." Ron shook his head. "You can't be. You just...no." He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"I think Madam Pomfrey has been in practice long enough to be certain when someone's pregnant," she said with a frown.

Ron shook his head again. "But we only did it a few times without protection."

"It only takes once, Ron."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not stupid. I just...it's hard to believe. We've only been going out a few months."

"I know," Hermione said, her eyes never leaving his face.

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled a long breath. "You're...getting rid of it, right?"

It was Hermione's turn to flinch away. She hadn't exactly expected him to be over the moon about a baby, but his first reaction was really to abort it?

She drew her arms close around her torso in a hug. "I was planning to keep it. McGonagall thinks it'll be fine if we make accommodations with my classes next spring when the baby comes."

"You can't be serious," Ron said. He walked around his bed, abandoning the rest of his things that needed packing. He gripped her arms lightly. "Hermione, we can't have a baby right now."

"Why not?" She knew that his solution was the logical one. They were both barely seventeen and still had a full year of school left. But, it felt wrong to abort a baby because it would be inconvenient.

"Because a baby costs money. Why do you think my parents are so poor?"

"So, what? You think your mother prefers she would have aborted you and Ginny to save a little money? When do you think she should have stopped?" she asked. A part of her knew she was being horrible, but another part didn't care. Obviously, the Weasleys had chosen to bring more love into their home than worry about money. No, they weren't rich, but they had never gone without the essentials, and Mrs. Weasley always made sure there was enough food to feed everyone twice.

Ron dropped his hands to his sides. "That's beside the point."

"No, it's not!" Hermione snapped. "You're suggesting to kill our son or daughter because we won't have enough money. By the time he or she is born, we'll only have a few months before graduation, and we'll get jobs then. It will all be fine. Harry's already offered to-"

"Harry?!" Ron barked. "You've already told Harry? Shit, does the whole castle know except me? Madam Pomfrey, McGonagall, Harry. I'm surprised one of the portraits didn't tell me."

"Ron-"

"And Harry's offered to what? Pay for the first few months? I don't want any of his charity. This is exactly why we have to get rid of it."

"Because our friend wants to help us financially for a few months? Ron, that's stupid. This is our child. We can always pay Harry back."

"I don't want to owe him a debt, Hermione. Not a money debt." He swallowed and walked back to the other side of his bed to stand in front of his trunk. He checked his watch that his parents had sent him for his seventeen and started throwing the rest of his things into his trunk haphazardly. "We can't have a baby. We're not ready."

"You'll never be ready if all you're concerned about is money," she said, crushing her arms around her ribs even tighter.

"I didn't say that," Ron huffed. "It's just too soon. We're only seventeen. We're barely of age."

"My parents had me when they were still teenagers," Hermione said. This was a fact she had never shared with Harry or Ron, but she had never found it particularly important.

"Yeah, and you're an only child," he said, leaning heavily on the lid of his trunk to try to smash his belongings enough so he could snap the trunk shut. "Why do you think you probably don't have siblings? That's a lot of debt to have that young."

A sudden burst of fire sprung up in Hermione's chest. She seized his pillow and chucked it at him. "You know nothing about my family."

He frowned and bent to pick up the pillow from where it had fallen to the carpet after smacking him in the shoulder. "I'm just saying that it doesn't make sense to have a baby right now, Hermione. There's the money, and we're on the brink of a war."

"You were born in the middle of the last war!" she screeched. Maybe his reasons were logical, but the way he said them just sounded like feeble excuses. Just because there were obstacles didn't mean something couldn't be done or turn out incredible in the end.

"Look," he said and checked his watch again. "We have to go. I don't have time to argue about this. You know that the best thing to do is get rid of it. It makes sense. Get rid of it, and we can forget it ever happened."

Hermione drew herself up to her full height. "No, forget we ever happened. Have a good holiday." And she stormed from the dormitory.

* * *

The summer holiday was tumultuous.

Hermione's first week back home was especially emotional. She had been planning for months to modify her parents' memories and relocate them to a more obscure place in Australia for safety reasons. Given the circumstances of the worsening wizarding world conditions and the arrival of Mrs. Weasley's letter a few days into the break, she executed the plan early. She wanted her parents as safe as possible, which meant departing from them quickly, so she took that week to enjoy their reactions to the pregnancy news before altering their memories and Apparating to the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley had invited Hermione to spend the summer with the Weasleys. Her letter had included the news that Ron had left for the entire summer to intern at Charlie's place of work in Romania. Apparently, his anger with Hermione combined with his mother's lectures about responsibility had driven him to Apparate straight to Charlie's doorstep just a few hours after he had arrived home.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys support and Ron's sudden departure had convinced her to go there. It would be the best place for the first few months of the pregnancy. Mrs. Weasley kept her full, made her tonics for her morning sickness, and dug out the magazines on pregnancy and parenthood that she had read when starting the Weasley family. Ginny was helpful too as she always provided a great venting partner whenever Hermione's letters to Ron returned unopened.

When their school lists arrived, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find the Head Girl badge enclosed. She had been hoping to be Head Girl ever since she learned what it was. But, she had assumed the Heads of House wouldn't choose her due to the pregnancy taking up more of her attention.

Wondering who the Head Boy might be helped distract her from the fatigue and morning sickness. Luckily, by the time she would board the train, her first trimester would be almost over, and hopefully, the nausea would pass around then. She just hoped Ron hadn't been made Head Boy. He wasn't writing to anyone in the Weasley household it seemed. However, that didn't mean much since only Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione were residing at the Burrow. Fred and George had sent Hermione a parcel full of the cure half of their Puking Pastilles to help with the morning sickness, but she hadn't seen them in person in months.

She and Ginny stayed home while the Weasleys made the trip to Diagon Alley for their school supplies. They had put off the shopping trip until last minute in hopes of a response from Ron on whether they needed to pick up his stuff as well. Charlie had replied saying he had already taken him to Diagon Alley the previous week and would see Ron off on September first. Ron still wanted nothing to do with his parents, who kept writing letters suggesting he come home and talk about the baby and what he should do as the father.

By that time, Hermione had given up hope that Ron would answer her letters. She even doubted he'd come around over the next six to seven months. She might make one last attempt to talk to him at school, but besides that, she had decided not to push him. It was clear they didn't want the same things, and a baby shouldn't have a reluctant or begrudging father in the picture. And she would only have to see him during a few classes and in passing at meal times. Ginny had already demanded she sit with her and insisted they could snag Harry away at meals once a day probably.

She wouldn't even be seeing him in the common room much anymore. As Head Girl, she was still welcome in Gryffindor Tower, but her main quarters would be in a suite up near Dumbledore's office. She and the Head Boy would share a lounge area and have separate rooms. She was sure she could tolerate anyone as long as it wasn't Ron. Anthony Goldstein, Ernie Macmillan, maybe even Draco Malfoy would be preferable. Anthony and Ernie were friendly enough, and she could always avoid Malfoy. At least with him, it was pure dislike. It would be terribly worse living with an ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend.

She would just have to wait till September first to find out. And that day came soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stepped down from the carriage, her robes a tangle around her as the wind tried to snatch them away. Ginny hopped down beside her a moment later, closely followed by Luna and Harry. They hurried up the steps to the Entrance Hall in silence, the wind too much to attempt to talk over.

The instant they were inside and Hermione was adjusting her robes, she heard a familiar laugh. As she turned, Harry muttered, "I'm going to kill him."

Hermione frowned. They had both turned to look at Ron, who was a few clusters of people away. He was laughing at something Seamus had told him and Dean apparently.

She turned back to Harry. "Just forget it. I have. We can't make him come round."

She had been planning to approach Ron one last time tonight after dinner. Ron was always more agreeable after one of the feasts. But, Harry's arrival to her, Ginny's, and Luna's compartment thirty minutes into the train journey had changed her mind. Harry had shown up fuming and nursing red knuckles. Apparently, Ron had stopped writing Harry mid-summer to avoid Harry's lectures about abandoning his best friend and unborn child. Once on the train, Ron had tried to pretend like nothing had happened. They got into a row, and Ron ended up with a bloody nose.

"But, Hermione-" Harry began with a huff.

She waved a hand to hush him as she had just seen McGonagall headed for them. "We can talk later, Harry."

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said, glancing quickly to the rest of the group before darting her gaze back to the young witch. "After the feast, please come to the Headmaster's office. We want to discuss your duties as Head Girl tonight. Mr...ah, Draco will be there as well. He's Head Boy."

Hermione furrowed her brow but nodded. "Yes, Professor."

The woman gave a curt nod and vanished back into the crowd of students flooding the hall, undoubtedly on her way to receive the first years for the sorting.

"That was odd," Harry said as they followed Ginny and Luna into the Great Hall. Luna split off from them just inside the door, giving a dreamy wave of her fingers as she went to join the Ravenclaw table.

"What?" Hermione asked. She slid into a seat beside Ginny as Harry sat across from them. They had chosen seats at the end near the door. "I'm not terribly surprised he's Head Boy. You told me Ron didn't have the badge today."

"No, it's not that." Harry frowned. "She called him Draco, not Mr. Malfoy. She stopped herself. Do you think it has anything to do with his parents disowning him this summer?"

"Most definitely," Hermione answered. She had been ill most of the summer with morning sickness, but the fatigue and vomit hadn't blurred her mind so much that she forgot the _Daily Prophet_ article from mid-July. She certainly hadn't missed the Weasleys' shocked reactions and Harry's rushed letter with the clipping enclosed. "He's probably not allowed to use the Malfoy name anymore."

"Do wizarding families make you change your name when you're disowned? Sirius didn't."

"Yes, but Sirius's parents didn't announce it to the entire wizarding world on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_."

"So what would he go by now?" Ginny asked.

"No idea," Hermione said.

Harry frowned, and she recognized it as the same look he gave his Divination homework.

"Stop trying to figure it out, Harry," she said. "We've been over it dozens of times. No one is saying why he was disinherited."

"But what could have been so bad that his parents made it known? That they would disown their only heir?"

Hermione shrugged. It was certainly peculiar. The article had been written to sound as if the Malfoys had made the scandal public knowledge of their own free will rather than a reporter digging up pureblood secrets. And then as suddenly as it had appeared, it was all hushed up. Not a single article with more information had followed, and a scandal of a pureblood family with such a steep reputation as the Malfoys should have been talked about for months. It was almost as if the Malfoys were afraid of being found connected to their son if the truth was ever revealed, so they had prevented an even bigger scandal by announcing the cutting off of their son immediately. But that still left so many questions.


	3. Chapter 3

"Headmaster, think of what the boy is saying," Snape said. "He wants to stay in the castle during the full moon."

"Inside the Room of Requirement," Draco said for what seemed like the fifth time that evening. He had told Snape of his idea on their way up to Dumbledore's office after the feast. The feast had gone on far too long what with all the Slytherins giving him wary and condescending glances. No one had even spoken to him, and that was without his secret in the open. He was grateful that he wouldn't be spending any time with his house outside of classes. Most of his friends were parts of families that were good friends with his parents, and association with an ex-heir of a powerful, respected pureblood family was essentially taboo.

"The Room of Requirement is not foolproof," Snape said, shooting him a look clearly meant to make him shut up.

But Draco wasn't having it. All of his respect for the man had evaporated when Snape had replied with disgust to his letter that summer. Draco had written him the instant he had overheard his parents discussing the probability of needing to disown Draco to save themselves. He had asked, practically begged, Snape to let him stay with him until the start of the term. But, Snape had sent back an emphatic no.

He still wasn't sure whether that was because Snape was truly disgusted by his condition, or because Voldemort had commanded all Death Eaters to shun him, or because a newly bitten werewolf could not enjoy the benefits of the Wolfsbane Potion until after his first whole year of transition was done and would be extremely wild and dangerous. Probably all three. Regardless, Snape's letter was so worded that it punched a hole in his gut, and he had spent much of the night wondering if it would be easier to run away, to disappear.

Then he had thought of someone else to write.

"The Room provides whatever the user needs," Draco said, getting up from the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. "If I ask for the Room to imprison me from dusk till dawn, it will."

"But it has never been tested against a new werewolf's strength."

Someone cleared their throat, and Draco, Snape, and Dumbledore turned their attention to the door. Professor McGonagall and Hermione Granger were standing in the doorway.

"Werewolf?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide and searching every face for confirmation of some joke. Then she gasped, and her gaze locked onto Draco. "That's why your parents..." She trailed off as if realizing how awful it would sound out loud.

Draco rolled his eyes. Dumbledore and Snape had already told him that his condition would be kept secret from the school, but the other professors and the Head Girl had to know for safety reasons. And he had never doubted it would be Granger.

"Yes, Granger, I'm a werewolf," he said, "and you're pregnant." She wasn't showing yet, but he could smell it. Just enough of a hint in her scent to tell him her hormones were different due to a growing baby. The scent was the same as his pregnant caregiver's from the summer, so he had no doubt.

Her eyebrows rose. "How-"

"Miss Granger, your pregnancy is not the most pressing thing right now," Snape said. "Sit down and be quiet." He paused. "Both of you."

Begrudgingly, Draco took his seat again as Hermione settled into the second seat. Dumbledore was still seated behind his desk, completely unbothered, almost smiling. Snape and McGonagall remained standing.

Now, Dumbledore did smile as he looked at Draco and Hermione. "Seventh year is such a magical time," he said, and his eyes twinkled in silent laughter at his own joke. "You are concentrating on your N.E.W.T.s and looking ahead to a bright future." Here, Draco snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, but Dumbledore continued as if there hadn't been an interruption. "This is an opportunity to put last year behind us all and move on with forgiveness and understanding."

As soon as Draco saw Hermione's puzzled look, he knew Dumbledore would tell her. He huffed and spoke to beat him to it. "I spent last year trying to kill him."

Again, her eyes went wide. "What?!"

"No need to worry," Dumbledore said calmly, and he smiled brightly. "Voldemort tasked Draco with murdering me. And I, as I'm sure others are, am exceedingly grateful that he failed."

Hermione was staring at Draco. "You...you-"

"I didn't want to, ok?!" Draco snapped, and an animalistic growl rose in his throat. He swallowed it down, forcing himself to calm a bit. "I didn't try that hard. But, yes, I still tried. Voldemort...he said if I failed, he would make me wish for death. I thought that meant torture or killing my parents. I never thought..."

"That he would have Greyback turn you," Hermione finished for him, and he nodded.

"As touching as confessions are," Snape said, "this doesn't solve any problem, Headmaster."

"I agree, Albus," McGonagall said. "What will we do for his transformations?"

"The Room of Requirement will work," Draco said.

"You don't know that," Snape said. "First year werewolves are stronger, wilder, more lustful than successfully transitioned werewolves."

"And he can't take the Wolfsbane Potion the first year," Hermione said.

"Yes," Snape answered curtly. "The Shrieking Shack has worked-"

"No." Draco shook his head. "No, I won't go there."

"I don't think you get a choice," Snape said with venom. "Your preference will not be catered to if it endangers the lives of a thousand young wizards."

"I think," Dumbledore said, "the Room of Requirement will work just fine." He held up a hand to silence Snape's ready retort, and Draco's shoulders relaxed. "We will post two teachers outside every full moon just in case. Now, I would like to get on to discussing the duties of Head Boy and Head Girl."

Draco swallowed, the tension in his muscles easing. It was settled, and Snape wouldn't go against anything Dumbledore said.

"Your duties this year as Head Boy and Girl will include nightly rounds of parts of the castle as assigned by myself or other professors." Dumbledore absently adjusted a quill on his desk so it was properly aligned with his parchment. "You will check in periodically with all Prefects of every house and report any arising problems to me or the Head of that house. Additionally, you will assist first years with settling in and act as counselors for any troubled students that come to you."

Both Draco and Hermione nodded.

"We also ask that the two of you watch out for each other," McGonagall said. "I know you do not particularly like each other, but given the circumstances of a transitioning werewolf and a pregnancy, I think it's best to put differences aside now. Understood?"

They both nodded again. Draco wasn't terribly fond of this idea as he and Hermione had a long history of bad blood between them. But, he supposed that was mainly his fault. What did blood matter anymore? His family had kicked him out, and he was a werewolf, so he basically ranked below Muggleborns now if anything. Best to let it go, though it would be a hard habit to break. For Potter and Weasley though, there would be no such truce.

The door to Dumbledore's office burst open, and Filch hobbled inside. He clutched a stitch in his side and wheezed, "Peeves...Ever-Bashing...Boomerangs...fifty...of...them."

McGonagall huffed and swept form the office with Snape close behind. Dumbledore rose slowly with a chuckle. "Oh, poltergeists." He moved to the door and looked back. "Your dormitory is down the hall behind a painting of Merlin. The password is 'licorice wand'. Goodnight."

As Draco and Hermione left the office, Hermione cleared her throat. "I was just curious-"

"Because you're nosy."

She huffed. "Never mind."

Draco sighed, trying to heed McGonagall's warning to put their differences aside and behave. "No, you...uh, had a question?"

She gave him a cautious, almost skeptical glance. "Um, yeah. A few actually. If your parents disowned you, where did you go this summer? What will your parents do without an heir? It seems so drastic."

Draco shrugged. "I guess that's just how embarrassing and shameful they find me now. But, really, I think they'll just have another heir. I won't be surprised if my mom's pregnant by Christmas."

"Oh." Hermione trained her eyes on the floor as they walked. "And where you stayed?"

"I stayed with my cousin and her husband," he answered. Then he smiled slightly. "We all became close. It actually rather felt like a real family. Like someone actually cared about my well-being more than reputation." Then, as if realizing how much he had revealed, he cleared his throat. "Well, what about you?" His gaze dipped to her stomach. "Weasley?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no. We're still on you. You're telling me you stayed with Remus and Tonks?"

"Yeah," Draco said somewhat sheepishly. It was well known within common society and the Order how much Draco's family disliked Andromeda, her daughter, and the werewolf. "Remus has been a huge help."

"I would expect so," she said. There was a pause, and she asked, "So, what do I call you now? I can't use Malfoy."

"Draco will be fine," he answered.

"Then you have to call me by my first name too."

"Fine." He stopped in front of a portrait of an elderly wizard surrounded by books. "Licorice wand."

The portrait swung forward, and they climbed through the hole.

"That's going to get really difficult in the next few months," Hermione said, looking back at the portrait hole as Merlin swung shut behind them.

"Right, you didn't answer my question," Draco said. She wasn't paying attention though, and he turned to take in the room as she was doing.

They were in the lounge area, which was done in dark wood furnishings and their houses' colors. A fire crackled in a large fireplace on the far wall. Plush couches and armchairs were situated around a coffee table laid with a wizard's chess set. Two doors on opposite sides of the lounge led to their bedrooms, one with a gold lion on the door and the other with a silver snake.

"Sorry, um, yeah," Hermione said, turning back to him. "It's Ron's. But, he doesn't want it, so we aren't really on speaking terms."

"Figures," he muttered. He had always hated Ron, and now, he felt like separating all his limbs from his body. Abandoning children was terrible. He would know, and he had been greatly humbled because of it and his condition. "Well, I need some rest. Goodnight." He turned to walk to his room.

"Wait," Hermione said, and he turned back, raising an eyebrow. "If you're no longer a Malfoy, did you adopt a new last name?" She paused as if trying to find some excuse for why she was asking this. She found one. "Harry will want to know. He won't want to call you Draco."

Draco laughed and grinned. "Oh, yeah. I'm a Lupin now. So, you tell Potter good luck with that." Still grinning, he strode into his room and shut the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione spent the first week of term in the library. This, of course, was not unusual in the slightest, except that she was devoting most of her time to books on werewolves and moon cycles. If she was going to be living with one, especially a newly transitioning one, she figured she needed to know as much about them as she could. Snape had made them write an essay in third year on recognizing and killing werewolves, but that information barely scratched the surface and wouldn't help her now.

There were surprisingly very few books on werewolf behavior in their human form. She guessed this was because very few werewolves lived in the company of regular wizards. A whole species of people that was shunned and considered useless and dangerous was obviously not a priority to write about unless in their wolf form. Overall, the writings were biased and often dehumanized all werewolves by refusing to refer to them as people at all.

Harry often joined Hermione in the library, and she would have to cover the books with others that actually focused on her homework. Harry didn't need to know about Draco's secret, and she worried that he might figure it out if he found her doing copious amounts of research on werewolves. He usually came to talk about Ron and vent about how stupid he was being. With how much Harry seemed to lecture him on abandoning his child, she was surprised they were still on speaking terms. Ron certainly hadn't made any attempt to talk to her, even in lessons.

Eventually, Harry was there so often that she couldn't continue the research, and she had to sneak books back to her room. She wasn't sure how Draco would feel about her research and hand-drawn moon charts, and, unfortunately, he was apparently fond of doing his homework at the coffee table near the fire.

She had put off contacting the most reliable source of information in fear that Remus would mention her letter to Draco. But, by the end of the week, she was so frustrated with the lack of information in the library that she decided it was worth the risk. So, she sent two letters: one for Remus and one for Tonks. The first letter asked about Remus's experience as a werewolf and how he felt during the days leading up to and following the full moon. The other asked Tonks to explain what it was like living with a werewolf and what challenges Hermione might run into.

A bit more at ease now that the letters had been sent, Hermione decided to use the rest of her Friday night before their rounds to work on her Ancient Ruins essay.

Walking into her and Draco's common room, she saw him working at his spot at the coffee table. He was bent forward over a book, flipping the pages slowly with an annoyed scowl distorting his features. It made him look even sicker than she figured he was. Now that he had shed his robes for just slacks and a sweatshirt, she could see how thin he had gotten. And there were always bags under his eyes as if he never slept at all.

She set her Ancient Ruins textbook, parchment, quill, and ink down on the small ottoman. That way it would be reachable from the floor since the coffee table was only big enough for one of them to work at a time. They each had a desk in their room, but it was much cozier to work by the fire, which they both seemed to prefer.

"What are you working on?" Hermione asked as she lowered herself to the floor so she was sitting on the floor by the ottoman. She was really trying at being nice as McGonagall had suggested, and it helped and surprised her that Draco seemed to be following the same advice. He hadn't called her "Granger" or "Mudblood" all week. Granted, they typically only said words in passing or short sentences on their rounds, so maybe he hadn't had the time or energy to work in an insult into conversation yet.

Draco had one hand supporting his chin as his eyes scanned a passage of the book. "Muggle Studies essay," he murmured.

She blinked at him. "But you never took Muggle Studies back when we could first take it in third year." She had taken it that year while using the Time-Turner, but she had dropped the class since then.

"Remus said it would be good for me," he explained, still staring at the page. "When he couldn't find work in the wizarding world, he did Muggle jobs as much as he could. So, Dumbledore's letting me take the introductory course with the third years."

Hermione winced. That must have been embarrassing. "Well, what's your essay on?"

"This one's due Monday, and it's on Muggle coffee and energy drinks compared to Pepper-Up Potion. But, I have a much longer one due the day after the full moon." He dropped his face into his hands. "It's a comparison of Floo Powder and Apparition to Muggle communication and transportation. Has to cover cars, trains, phones, letters, television, computers, and pagers. I'm just overwhelmed and can't concentrate."

Hermione frowned in thought. She remembered doing those essays. "Professor Burbage is an easy grader, don't worry. A lot of her grades are based on effort and big picture concepts."

"Everything is an easy grade for you," Draco replied, his voice slightly muffled by his hands still.

"Hmph," Hermione said and turned back to the fire. She pulled her Ancient Ruins book into her lap.

"Wait," he said. "I'm sorry."

She immediately twisted around to stare at him. He had just apologized to her. She didn't even think "sorry" was in his vocabulary. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, frowning at her. He really did look sorry. "I just meant...this school stuff comes easy to you."

"Because I enjoy it," she said.

He sighed. "Fine. But, I don't. I wasn't made to sit and read. I just..." He swallowed and then looked at her carefully, cautious. "You grew up with Muggle parents."

"Yeah. What about it?" she prompted him, her words slow. She was expecting an insult to follow.

"Can you...help me?" he asked. "Like, just read over what I write and see if it's ok?"

She nodded after a moment, her anxiety easing. "Yeah, I guess so."

They each went back to their homework, working in silence except for the turning of pages and scratching of quills. Hermione's head was buzzing though with thoughts about this new, nice Draco. It was odd to say the least, but maybe this year wouldn't be miserable after all.

"Do you want to do rounds a little early?" Draco asked after a while, his quill landing with a soft thus as he tossed it down on the table.

Hermione looked up at the clock above the fire. They still had thirty minutes before they had to do their nightly rounds. But they had been working on homework for over two hours, and she could use a break to stretch her legs. "Sure," she said and moved to stand.

She followed him out of the portrait hole and up through the castle. This week and next, they were assigned rounds in the corridors and classrooms up near the Astronomy Tower. The point of rounds was to make sure students weren't out past curfew and that Peeves wasn't causing major mayhem or noise.

There was no sign of Peeves as they rounded the corner of the Astronomy Tower corridor. But, as they approached the middle of the hall, Draco stopped.

"What?" Hermione asked softly, turning back to peer at him in the torchlight.

"I hear noises," he said.

They waited in silence as Draco cocked his head. After a moment, he motioned for Hermione to follow him. She stayed a few steps behind him as they crept past classroom doors. Draco paused to listen at each one along the right hand side of the corridor. She guessed his hearing was heightened due to being a new werewolf because she certainly couldn't hear any noises.

But at the second-to-last classroom, she finally did. Gentle whispers, almost sexual cooing, was coming from beyond in the classroom.

Draco frowned while Hermione sighed. He swallowed thickly and edged back a bit as if he were squeamish or something. "You want to handle this one?"

She huffed and stepped forward. She contemplated just throwing the door open, but she didn't really fancy seeing any of her peers naked and engaged in such activities. At least she and Ron had had the decency to always meet in the Room of Requirement for such intimacies. Instead, she eased open the door, praying the couple inside would hear or see it and have time to get somewhat dressed before she confronted them.

She had the door halfway open before she finally looked inside. No one had responded, and the moans and praising whispers had only grown louder now that the door was open.

What, or rather who, she saw made her stomach twist up like Devil's Snare.

Ron had Lavender Brown pressed up against the blackboard. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back against the board as Ron sucked hickeys onto the top of her breasts. They were only half naked with their shirts lying discarded near them on the floor. Lavender luckily still had on her bra.

Hermione fely Draco brush past her, and she, along with Ron and Lavender, jumped when he threw the door back against the wall. It bounced back from the wall, and he caught it firmly.

"WEASLEY!" he shouted. "Get your hands off her. You've already knocked up one girl. We don't need another."

Ron was speechless, but Lavender stared at him. "You told me Hermione's pregnancy was just a rumor!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. All Ron did was deny and avoid his problems, so this didn't surprise her. She hadn't told anyone else about the baby yet, but they would all know soon enough. And sooner still now that Lavender would tell everyone else by lunch tomorrow.

Lavender turned to Hermione. "Is it...Are you..."

"Yes," Hermione said. "And Ron doesn't want it."

The girl gaped at Ron, and then with a sound of disgust, she snatched up her shirt and hurried out the door.

Ron was now slowly pulling on his shirt. "You always ruin everything, Hermione. Damn it." He had put on his shirt backwards.

"You're the one not taking responsibility, Weasley," Draco snapped.

Ron finished turning his shirt around and said, "Shove off, Malfoy. Or whatever slime name you go by now."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell Ron off, but before she could, Draco gave a low growl, picked up a desk, and hurled it at Ron's head with such force that it shattered the blackboard when Ron ducked.

"Bloody hell!" Ron said, his eyes wide. "Are you mental?"

"GET OUT!" Draco bellowed.

With barely a backward glance, Ron dashed from the room.

The instant Ron's footsteps had faded, Draco slumped against the wall and sat down.

"Are you ok?" Hermione asked, watching him as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just...hard to control my emotions a lot of the time. They're too powerful sometimes."

Hermione nodded even though she knew he wouldn't be able to see it. She moved to the front of the classroom. With a few waves of her wand, she mended the board and desk and moved the desk back to its proper place.

She stopped in front of Draco, who hadn't moved at all. "Uh, the rest of the rounds won't take long."

He shook his head against his palms. "I'll finish the rounds. Go back to the dormitory."

"What? Why?"

"I need to walk off some stuff," he said, finally looking up. At her confused and searching look, he sighed and elaborated, "I could smell it. Their hormones. And I got mad because I couldn't...I don't..." He swallowed and looked away, his cheeks coloring. "You heard Snape say werewolves are really lustful in their first year..."

"Oh. Yeah." Then she realized what he meant. "Oh!"

"Yeah."

"Well, I, uh, can still keep you company," she offered. "Help you focus on non-sexual things."

Draco shook his head. "No, you don't understand. You have to go. It's taking everything in me to stay sitting right now. Go back to your room, run if you can. Lock the door and don't come out till sunrise."


	5. Chapter 5

Draco collapsed face-down onto the couch across from Hermione with a groan, causing her to look up from what she had been reading. She had received Remus's and Tonks's lengthy replies a few days ago and had reread them multiple times since then in an effort to memorize them. She quickly stuffed the letters out of sight between the pages of an Astronomy textbook beside her before turning to assess Draco.

She wasn't sure what to do in this situation even with the advice from the Lupins. It had been nearly a week and a half since she and Draco had stumbled upon Ron and Lavender, causing Draco to have some type of hormonal werewolf reaction. And she had barely seen him since then. It was obvious he was avoiding her since he went straight to his room each time he returned to the common room, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. Was he embarrassed? Angry? Just hormonal? Or had things shifted back to resemble how he had treated her for the past six years?

Somehow, she didn't think it was the latter. Every time she had seen him walk through the common room, he hadn't insulted her or really spoken at all. Their rounds were done in silence besides affirming grunts from him in response to her questions or statements. Mainly, he just seemed defeated, and she had assumed this was because of the approaching full moon on top of everything else.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, her gaze roaming over what she could see of his clothes. There were sizable rips in his shirt and a long tear down the seam of one pant leg. And there were certainly patches that looked a lot like blood.

The full moon had been the previous night.

Draco turned his head barely to face her, presumably so he could breathe and talk better. "Why are you even awake right now?" he asked instead.

Hermione glanced to the window where the sun was just now hovering over the horizon. She had gotten up at dawn an hour ago to wait for Draco to come back from the Room of Requirement. After reading Remus's letter detailing his earliest memories of his painful and draining unmedicated transformations, she had wanted to ensure he was okay. "Couldn't sleep," she said. "It looks like you might have some cuts. Aren't you supposed to go see Madam Pomfrey after every full moon for healing and a muscle relaxer?"

"Perhaps." He looked at her through heavily lidded eyes and waved a hand dismissively before dropping it so his arm hung loosely over the side of the couch. The back of his hand skimmed the carpet, and Hermione's gaze darted to a long cut stretching the entire length of his forearm.

"Yeah, well, you should go see her," she said.

"Can't," he said. "It was hard enough to walk back here with no stairs. I'm not doing seven flights and back with how sore and dizzy I am."

"You can't just lie there in pain," she reasoned.

He huffed and laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position. "See, not lying here. I'll be fine."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in challenge as she surveyed the damage Draco had done to himself while in werewolf form. His shirt was torn in two down the front so it hung open. From this, she could see exposed gouges in his chest where sharp claws had dug deep into his torso. Two deep gashes also marred his cheek. All of these wounds were clotted with dark red, almost black blood.

"You lost a lot of blood," she said. "No wonder you're dizzy." She stood and stooped to pick up her bag, which she had emptied of all books the previous night while she had surrounded herself with homework to distract herself from the thoughts of Draco off somewhere going through severe pain like Remus had described.

"Where are you going?" he asked, moving to get up himself. But he immediately clutched the arm of the couch and had to sit back down, his eyes closed as he took deep breaths.

"To get Madam Pomfrey. Lie back down and don't move," Hermione said. She walked to the portrait hole before turning back. Draco had already done as she suggested and was now stretched across the couch on his back. "Also, you need food. What do you want to eat?"

"Nothing they have down there," he answered without looking up. His eyes were still closed.

Hermione thought back to Tonks's letter and said, "Raw steak?"

There was a pause before Draco said, softly, "Yeah."

Hermione adjusted her bag on her hip and nodded. "Alright. I'll send Madam Pomfrey up and see what there might be in the kitchens."

* * *

Hermione returned to the common room nearly an hour later, her bag now carrying a large raw steak wrapped in butcher paper and a few medical supplies.

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" Draco asked, lifting his head marginally to look at the portrait hole as she climbed through it.

"She couldn't come," Hermione said. She set her bag on the coffee table beside the couch and began to take the items out. "Some emergency with two second years that tried to joust on their broomsticks. One has some shattered leg bones and the other has splinters from the broom handle embedded in his arm and stomach."

Draco grimaced, but his expression quickly turned curious as he looked at the items she was laying out on the table. "So what's this?"

"Your steak," she said, nodding to the brown paper package. She hated asking the house elves for anything, but this had seemed most necessary. And they had been eager, although confused, to give it to her. "And a couple of things from Madam Pomfrey." She handed him a small green bottle. "She said to take that first. It's the muscle relaxer."

Draco took it from her and eased himself back up into a sitting position. He tucked one foot underneath him and let the other hang off the couch. He unstopped the vial and drank it in two gulps.

Hermione took it back from him and replaced it on the table beside the other items. She picked up a rag and another bottle, this one purple, before sitting next to him. "Madam Pomfrey told me how to put this on you, but I think you may want to do this yourself. It's Essence of Dittany, which should heal all your cuts pretty well."

Draco nodded and reached for the bottle. But, as soon as she released it into his hand, it slipped from between his fingers to land between them in the crease of the couch.

Hermione picked up the bottle while Draco tried and failed to make a fist. "So, that muscle relaxer is strong, I'm guessing," he said, quite plainly stating the obvious since his hands hands were now shaky slightly.

"I guess that's why she told me to put this on you," Hermione said. She fiddled with the stopper on the bottle, trying to stall so he would realize what that meant and say no. But, he didn't, and meanwhile, all she could think of what that time back in fourth year where had offered her a Potter Stinks badge and told her not to touch his hand and get Mudblood grime all over him.

She peered up at him cautiously as she tipped some of the contents of the bottle onto the rag to wet it.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, I just...I thought you might have objections to me touching you."

His cheeks colored faintly, but he held her gaze. "I'm honestly too weak and tired to care." His gaze lowered to her hands where she was adding more Dittany to the cloth. "Not sure I'd care anyways," he mumbled.

Hermione cleared her throat as she set the open bottle of Dittany on the coffee table. She would pretend she hadn't heard that. She had enough problems without trying to figure out what this tired, possibly delirious Draco meant by those words.

Purposely avoiding his gaze, she pressed the wet cloth to one of the gashes that stretched across his ribs. When he hissed out a breath, her eyes darted to his. He was staring at her, and as she watched, his pupils grew wider. Remus hadn't said anything about what that meant.

"So, uh," she said, tearing her eyes away and focusing back on pressing and holding the rag to each section of the wound. She was supposed to hold the rag to the wound and let it soak up some of the Dittany to heal. It was already working. The first spot she had touched now had a stiff scab over it and looked much less inflamed around the edges. "Did the Room of Requirement work out okay? Who was on duty outside?"

"It was fine," he answered in a low voice, and she struggled to keep her eyes on his chest and where her hands were moving. She was especially aware that she was reaching the wounds that dipped near to his belt buckle. "Snape and Flitwick were watching the door."

She nodded and wet the rag with more of the Dittany. She swallowed and pressed the rag to his abdomen just below his navel. Instantly, his hand was around her wrist, clutching it loosely, though she was sure it would have been a vice grip had the muscle relaxer not been in effect at that moment. "Stop."

"Why?" she asked, looking up, though she was sure she knew the answer to her own question. Touching him there was too much, too personal. But, those wounds were deep, and he did need the healing ointment, so she had to muster through the awkward feelings, and, surely, he knew he had to as well to feel better.

"I don't want to test my self-control," Draco answered. He swallowed and shook his head at her inquisitive look. He released her wrist and clutched his hands together in his lap. "Just do my face. Please."

Hermione did as he asked and left the remainder of his torso wounds alone. Instead, she pressed the rag to one of the tears in his cheek. Within moments, it began to scab over, and she moved to the other gash. This one was closer to his eye, a gouge directly on top of his cheek bone.

"Do you feel better now with the potion and Dittany?" she asked, mainly in an effect to fill the silence. His eyes were focused on her face again, staring at her as if he was trying to memorize everything about her. It was unnerving.

"Yes. Thank you," he said. "Sorry if this made you uncomfortable."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it was fine," she lied as she replaced the stopper in the bottle. She stood and turned to her room. "I just remembered I have a huge essay due tomorrow. Enjoy your steak."

She shut the door of her room behind her quickly and leaned back against it, her breathing tight in her chest. She wasn't sure what had just happened out there with Draco exactly or if she had just been reading into it way too much, but it had felt so odd, like she had been naked in front of him or something. It didn't help that all she could suddenly think about was how she had never noticed how gorgeously gray his eyes were.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of September passed in a blur. After word had spread about Hermione's pregnancy, she had been bombarded by constant looks and remarks from the other Hogwarts students. Many people congratulated her or expressed their concerns about the baby and Ron's involvement. Others, mainly Slytherins, threw snide comments her way. Once, during Potions, Pansy Parkinson had loudly told another Slytherin girl that she bet the baby would come out with chipmunk teeth and ratty red hair that would warrant putting the child in a freakshow. Harry had responded by chucking a bowl of dragon's blood at her, which soaked her robes. Slughorn had just smiled and awarded 10 points to Gryffindor.

The class workload was already becoming strenuous too. With N.E.W.T. preparations in full swing for every class, homework kept her busy for what felt like every hour of the day. When she did happen to have free time, it was usually spent on napping, her weekly appointments with Madame Pomfrey to check on the baby's growth, or walks with Ginny and Harry around the grounds where there was almost no chance of running into Ron or a group of Slytherins.

Draco's health had seemed to improve over the last two weeks as well. His wounds had healed fully within a day of applying the Dittany, luckily leaving no scars behind. Though, Hermione wasn't sure how lucky he would be next time if the wounds were inflicted in the same places again. It was likely the Dittany would become less effective the more damage that was done over time, especially if the wounds went deeper in the future.

Despite the few rough days following the full moon where Draco slept most of the day, she had noticed he seemed happier. He had even made both of them hot cocoa the previous Wednesday when they had both been up late studying for a Transfiguration exam the next day.

But, she couldn't help the sinking feeling she got in her stomach when she realized this wouldn't last long. In Tonks's letter, Tonks had mentioned Remus going through extreme mood swings. The days leading up to the full moon would be the worst as the wolf prepared to surface. Tonks had warned Hermione about Draco possibly lashing out, but had also assured her he would return to normal within a few days following the full moon. As long as a normal Draco meant tolerance, no name calling, and more quiet hot cocoa study sessions, she wasn't going to complain. This was maybe a Draco she could be friends with. But she wasn't sure he felt the same. Whenever they laughed or smiled at something the other said and made eye contact, he would quickly look away and turn to ice like he was withdrawing into himself. Like he was reminding himself that she was a Mudblood and not worth his time.

"I don't understand," Draco said, pacing back in front of the fire in the lounge. "I...what's happening, Remus?"

Remus's head, surrounded by emerald green flames where it hovered in the fireplace, frowned thoughtfully and said, "I think you're becoming friends with her, Draco."

Draco ran a hand through his hair and turned back to pace the other way. "I can't be friends with her. She's a..." He cut himself off before he said 'Mudblood' and instead continued with, "I'm a werewolf. I'm dangerous. I can't afford to have friends."

Now, Remus rolled his eyes. "My friends are what got me through most of my transformations."

"I know that," Draco said and this time, he stopped pacing to face the fire. "But this is different. She's not an animagus like your friends were. She can't help control me or keep me company during the full moon."

"That may be true, but she's still one of the only people who know what you are now," Remus pointed out. "She can help in other ways. She already has with this previous full moon."

Draco's cheeks flushed as he remembered her hands on his skin as she had applied the Dittany, and he quickly scrubbed a hand over his face to try to hide the blush from Remus. "She has her own problems to deal with. And I'm not even sure I should be around her. Her hormones are going crazy, and they're driving me crazy."

"I understand. Tonks's are the same way with me. I imagine it's even worse for you though. You're brand new to this, and you must feel the urge to-"

"Please," Draco said stiffly, holding a hand up. "Please, do not talk to me about werewolves and mates and sex."

Remus laughed, and Draco relaxed at the familiarity and warmth of the other man's genuine amusement. "Alright, I won't. But, I'm here if you do need me to. I know you're confused by this new dynamic with Hermione. I know it has to be hard to throw out those Pureblood habits and treating her like you have the past six years. But, she really is a brilliant and caring girl."

Draco sighed. "I know. I just...my brain feels muddled...overwhelmed. Sometimes, I can't even look at her because I don't know if I like her or hate her."

"Why would you hate her?"

"For confusing me."

Remus laughed again. "That's not her fault."

"I know. Anyways, thanks for talking to me. Give Tonks my best."

"Off to the Quidditch match?" Remus asked.

"No, I have homework. And how'd you know there was a match today?"

"Harry wrote me. He kept asking me questions about you, but I think I've steered him away for now. Lately, he's been writing about Ron and trying to get me to talk to him."

"Will you talk to Ron?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Someone needed to talk sense into that git.

Remus shook his head. "No. I'll just be another voice among the multitude already berating him. If he wants that child, he'll come around. But, honestly, I think it may be in everyone's best interest that he sign away his parental rights. He's finally started replying to his parents' letters again, but from what Molly told me, he only did so to tell them off. He sent them a Howler that made Molly cry."

Draco clenched his jaw tightly so his teeth ground together. "That baby shouldn't have a father like that. A father that doesn't want it."

"I agree. I think Hermione has a tough road ahead of her regardless."

* * *

Cheers erupted around Hermione as Gryffindor scored another 10 points, putting Ravenclaw 60 points behind now. Ginny seemed to have gotten even better over the summer. She had scored eight of Gryffindor's ten goals so far.

"This is fantastic!" Lavender shouted from beside her, waving a red and gold flag above her head.

Hermione laughed and cheered with her. Her back and feet were hurting from being on her feet for over an hour during the game, but it felt so worth it to be focused on something as simple as a Quidditch match where no one was looking at her rudely or sympathetically.

As Ravenclaw took possession of the Quaffle again, Hermione moved to sit down to quell a sudden spell of dizziness, and Lavender plopped down beside her. Lavender had been oddly friendly since the classroom confrontation a few weeks ago. She made a point to speak to Hermione more frequently now and readily joined in on conversations when she overheard Harry or Ginny ranting about Ron over mealtimes. Apparently, in addition to Ron's sleight of keeping Hermione's pregnancy a secret while snogging her, he had started a rumor about Lavender being really easy, which many people had started teasing her about with crude drawings and writing on bathroom stalls. Hermione thought if Harry didn't punch Ron again soon, Lavender would do it for him at this rate.

"Have you thought about my offer for the first Hogsmeade weekend any more?" Lavender asked, her cheeks bright pink from the chilly fall wind that churned through the stands.

Hermione closed her arms around the small bump of her stomach, drawing her robes tighter around her to keep out the wind. "I don't know. It's still two weeks away. I'll have to see what homework I have."

Lavender rolled her eyes and laughed. "Always studious. Well, I hope you say yes. I really want to see what things they might have for a nursery in the village."

Hermione nodded. Lavender had been asking her about going baby shopping every day for the past week. She couldn't decide if it was endearing or annoying. Maybe a bit of both. But, still, that wasn't the reason Hermione wouldn't be going shopping that weekend. It was because the first Hogsmeade weekend was just two days after the next full moon, and something in her just didn't want to leave Draco alone in the castle during his recovery.

Lavender and the other Gryffindors leaped to their feet again as Ginny sped by with the Quaffle tucked under her arm.

A tap came on Hermione's shoulder, and she turned. It was Ron.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft as he glanced around them to check that they weren't being overheard in all the commotion of Gryffindor scoring another goal. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Hermione nodded stiffly and made her way out of the row. Nerves coiled in her belly. Every time Ron had spoken to her recently had been to shout at her or say something else nasty. But the way he had leaned forward and lowered his voice, his eyes full of concern, maybe...just maybe, he had come around and he actually did want to talk.

She followed him around the corner of the elevated section of stands so they were standing in the shadows where the stairs started to descend back to the ground. "So..." she said.

Ron swallowed. "Look, I think you need to reconsider this whole thing. This baby...it has to go."

"Ron-"

"No, listen. I've been thinking. This will ruin you. Didn't you want to liberate the house elves and other magical creatures or whatever SPEW was about? How can you run for an office at the Ministry and do all that if you're taking care of a kid? And your opponents would likely bring it up about a child out of wedlock. You'd never get elected."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, wishing she had a real dagger just then instead of simply staring them at him. "You've never been interested in anything related to S.P.E.W. This is a load of crap, and you know it. Drop the act."

Ron's gaze darkened, and he huffed out a breath. "Listen to me, Hermione," he said, and she could see the rising anger in his eyes. "Weasleys get enough crap as it is. I don't want this following me around for the rest of my life. It's too messy."

"Too messy?" Hermione snapped. "You're talking about a human life. You want to get rid of it so you won't be inconvenienced. I don't even want anything from you. Don't worry about the money or custody. You never even have to meet the child. So, there. You're free. End of discussion."

She tried to move past him to return to the elevated seats, but Ron pulled her back, his hand now curled around her upper arm in a vice grip. She struggled, pushing at him with her free hand. "Let me go, Ron."

"No, not until you agree to get rid of it. You may not want anything from me now, but what if you change your mind? What if the kid shows up on my doorstep years from now wanting answers, wanting to know me, and disrupts whatever life I've built by then?"

"You can send them away. Or, I don't know, maybe you'll have matured past the age of five by then! But I'm not getting rid of it. I want this baby." She pulled harder, though she was perfectly aware that they were standing at the edge of the steps, and if she pulled too hard, she might send them both tumbling down them.

"Then I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am." Pain and sadness seemed to cross his features for a moment as if he were really feeling regret. "I hope you'll forgive me someday."

"What are y-" Hermione started to say, but just then, Ron turned so her back was to the stairs. And he pushed her.

There was no thought as she fell. She only had the sudden sensation of her stomach rising into her throat as she dropped away from Ron and he grew more distant with each searing hit of a stair against her. The world seemed to still be shaking when she rolled to a stop on the landing some twenty or so steps below him. Everything hurt, and she wanted so desperately to sit up and curse him with every spell she knew, but she was still dazed from the fall and a few blows to her head. Black spots danced in her vision.

She watched him turn away through her blurring vision, and that's when a bright red stunner hit him directly in the chest, and he collapsed at the top of the stairs.

A moment later, Lavender and Parvati were racing down the stairs toward Hermione. Both looked panicked, and Lavender had her wand drawn. Lavender seemed to be saying something, maybe Hermione's name. But it sounded far away to Hermione, and a moment later, her vision went dark.


	7. Chapter 7

"Mr. Lupin," a voice said through the black fog. "You'll be taking care of her this next week. She'll have daily appointments now just to make sure the baby is well after the fall."

Hermione opened her eyes, and the room slowly came into view as if being processed through syrup. It took a moment for her to realize why she was in the Hospital Wing and why Professor McGonagall and Draco were standing at the foot of the bed.

A jolt shot through her as the memory of Ron pushing her came back, and she pushed herself to sit up. Her chest tightened with panic as she moved her hands to the bump of her stomach underneath the covers. Everything felt sore, and bandages wound around her arms and wrists and likely more continued beneath the covers.

McGonagall and Draco both turned to look at her, and the Deputy Headmistress called, "Poppy, she's awake."

Madame Pomfrey appeared around the curtain almost instantly, carrying a large red potion and a pitcher of water. "Oh, good. Drink up."

Hermione took the vial but didn't drink it. Everything seemed so muddled after the first rush from being pushed, though things were becoming more clear as time passed. Finally, her heart pounding in fear, she asked, "Is the baby ok?"

"Yes," Madame Pomfrey assured her. "But I want to ensure the healing I performed didn't affect the baby's growth, so I will need to see you more frequently to ensure things progress normally. Just a precaution. Now, drink. You need to boost your energy. The bandages are ready to be removed, but you'll be sore for several more days."

This time, Hermione drank her potion while her gaze swept the room. Draco looked like he hadn't slept at all, which was strange because though it was dark out, she couldn't imagine it had been more than a few hours since the match, and he had looked fine when she had left that morning. Once she had finished the potion and handed the empty vial back to the nurse, she frowned. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten," Draco answered. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, staring at her. "You've been out for over thirty-two hours."

Hermione simply blinked at him while a glass of water was pushed into her hand. "It's Sunday night? But I haven't finished my homework!"

"I told you she'd say that," Draco mumbled to McGonagall.

McGonagall just pursed her lips, though it looked like she was really about to cry from relief at Hermione being worried over something so trivial as homework at that moment. "I have informed the other professors of the...incident. They understand."

Hermione sipped her water. The way McGonagall had said 'incident' made her think the woman had really considered putting a few choice curse words behind it but had refrained. "Where's Ron?" It was only now returning to her that she remembered Ron being stunned before she had blacked out.

"Does it matter?" Draco snapped. "He's very far away from you and that baby, and that's what matters. I only regret that they sent him away before I could remove his intestines."

"Calm down, Mr. Lupin. Between you, Mr. Potter, and Miss Weasley, it was lucky we sent him away before the match ended."

"I quite agree," Madame Pomfrey said as she bent to untie the first of the bandages around Hermione's wrist. "I won't have werewolf tantrums bloodying up my Hospital Wing regardless of how much he deserved it. He's better off where he is."

"Wait," Hermione said. "Has Ron been expelled?"

It wasn't like his actions didn't warrant such punishment, but still. If Ron didn't finish his education, how could he ever escape his family's poverty?

"Unfortunately, no," Draco said.

McGonagall huffed, scowling at him before turning back to face Hermione. "No, he's been suspended through the New Year. He will return next term in January. For now, he will be studying at home and spending his days interning with some acquaintances of Poppy's at St. Mungo's in the maternity ward."

"I would have suggested the ward where they put people with painful contagious diseases," Draco said casually.

"Is it safe," Hermione said, her eyes drifting to watch Madame Pomfrey's fingers nimbly remove more bandages. "to trust Ron around babies?"

"He will be closely watched, acting as an orderly and shadowing the nurses. It is our hope that, while there, he may learn some manners and respect for women and infants," McGonagall said.

"Doubt it."

This time, McGonagall ignored Draco's remark. "I will tell Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley that you're awake, but for now, I recommend returning to your dormitory once Poppy has finished. You will be in Mr. Lupin's care until further notice."

* * *

"Didn't Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall tell you to rest?" Draco asked after opening the door to his room. He yawned as he leaned against the door frame.

"I just had to finish this essay for Professor Binns," Hermione said, not even looking up from where she was carefully scrawling a fresh line onto the parchment.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You got an extension on all your homework. You're supposed to be resting. Besides, it's late." It wasn't terribly late, really. After they had finished in the Hospital Wing, they had returned to their dormitory, and a house elf had been sent up with a plate of food for Hermione since dinner had ended before she awoke. Now, it was almost midnight, and while both Draco and Hermione usually stayed up this late working, Madame Pomfrey had made it clear Hermione should take it easy. Writing an essay with a freshly healed wrist fracture would not have fallen into the 'easy' category regardless of the time of day.

"It's not too late. You're up," Hermione said. She returned her quill to the ink pot and rubbed her wrist as she read over what she had just written. "How'd you know I was out here anyway? I was being quiet."

"My new enhanced hearing," he said as if this were obvious. He pushed off from the door frame and strode over to her. "And I'm allowed to be up late. I was finishing reading that chapter for the Defense Against the Dark Arts quiz tomorrow."

Hermione gasped and stared up at him, her eyes wide in alarm. "Oh my God, I forgot to read the chapter." She leaned over to reach for her bag where she had rested it up against the sofa, but Draco snatched it up first and slung it over his shoulder.

"No," he said and just shook his head at her narrowed eyes. "I'll give you my notes in the morning before you go to breakfast."

"But, I-"

"No," he said again. "And no finishing the essay either. Madame Pomfrey told you that you would be sore, and you might just hurt your wrist further if you keep writing. Lay off it just until the morning."

Hermione huffed and stood with some difficulty. She had been sitting on the floor with her back to the couch, presumably so she wouldn't have had to hunch forward to reach the low coffee table and put pressure on her stomach. "Fine," she said. She smoothed the front of her nightgown over her protruding belly. Having only seen her in her usual robes, Draco was startled to see just how much she was actually showing now. Her robes usually did a good job of disguising her steadily rounding silhouette.

He cleared his throat and looked away, realizing he had just spent a whole five seconds staring at Hermione's stomach. And while she was wearing a nightgown. Not that it revealed anything at all. It was just...strange to see her in her sleep things. "Right. Bedtime for both of us, I think."

Hermione gave a reluctant nod, glancing at the abandoned essay on the table as she passed him. "Goodnight then."

* * *

Hermione was awoken by a grunt, a petrified squeak, and a string of curse words early the next morning. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and looked toward her closed door.

"What the hell, Dobby?" came Draco's voice from just outside her door.

"S-sorry, sir," the elf replied, his voice a higher pitch than Hermione had ever heard it. "Dobby is just b-bringing Miss Granger tea and a healing draught, sir."

If there was another reply, Hermione didn't hear it as her door suddenly swung open to admit the tiny green-eyed elf. He tottered inside, carrying a silver tea tray with a small tea pot, a teacup and saucer, milk, and a small vial of the red potion she had taken yesterday. As he approached the edge of the bed, Hermione saw Draco's hand on the doorknob and him sitting on the floor in front of her door. The door shut with a soft click.

"Hello, Dobby," Hermione said, smiling as the elf slid the tea tray onto her bed. "Would you like to sit down?"

Dobby's gaze flitted from her face to the bed and back again. "Yes, thank you, miss." He slowly clambered onto the bed to sit across from her, the tea tray in between them. He poured her a cup of tea.

"Thank you," she said. She added a small splash of milk to the steaming cup. "What happened out there with Draco?"

Dobby's express turned scared again, and Hermione wondered if he would ever fully recover from his trauma of being enslaved to the Malfoys. "Mr...Mr..."

"Lupin?"

"Y-yes," he said, though his eyes seemed to grow even larger in the face of calling his former master by a new name. "Mr...Lupin. He was sleeping on the floor in front of miss's door, miss. Dobby must have startled him, and Mr. L-Lupin sat up and hit his head against the doorknob."

Hermione frowned in thought as she stirred her tea. Draco had slept out there all night? Had he been worried about her getting back up to do her homework? She shook her head and smiled at Dobby, who was adjusting the cuffs of his too-large sweater. "Did Madame Pomfrey send you?"

He nodded quickly, making his ears flap as he did so. "Yes, Madame Pomfrey says you is to have an appointment with her during your break period after lunch."

Hermione nodded and set her tea back on its saucer, choosing instead to drink the red potion while it cooled a bit.

"She is also saying," Dobby said, leaning toward her. "Dobby is overhearing her speaking to Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore, miss. She is saying that Mr. Lupin is a...a werewolf."

Hermione nearly choked on the potion at his blunt approach of the topic. As she forced herself to swallow the last of it without spitting it out, she heard a door slam somewhere else in the dormitory, and Dobby flinched. Draco had heard.

She licked a drop of the potion from her lower lip and set the vial back on the tray before saying, "Do the other house elves know?"

"No, miss. Only Dobby knows. But, they will likely find out soon. House elves hear everything, miss."

Hermione sighed. The more people that knew, the more danger there was of Draco's secret getting out. And she wasn't sure what exactly would happen to him if the whole school...the whole wizarding world knew. Remus seemed like the example of how Draco's life would turn out if his secret were exposed. But, Draco would have to contend with Pureblood prejudices and people panicking about his uncontrollable state. If people found out before he reached a full year of transitions when he could start taking the Wolfsbane potion, it would mean chaos and pressure from the Ministry to have him removed from the castle. Hermione wasn't about to let that happen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first seven chapters of this story were uploaded in bulk because I originally only posted them on fanfiction.net. This chapter marks the first of updates that will be uploaded simultaneously to FF.net and AO3 so both platforms are synchronized.

Draco spent much of the next two weeks in a state of constant anxiety. Knowing that Dobby knew his secret and that any of the other house elves could find out at any moment from a simple overheard conversation easily pushed him to the brink of paranoia. But, as the days wore on and no murmurs of his condition turned up, he began to relax. Either Dobby was still the only house elf that knew or the loyalty of the other house elves to the castle and its inhabitants was strong enough for them to keep such a large secret silent.

The next full moon was brutal. The stress of classes and wondering if he would be exposed at any moment had only provided more tension for his wolf side. When it was allowed to take over that one night, he found himself with more severe wounds than the previous month. Though, maybe it seemed that way because cleaning himself up and healing the gouges and slashes was slower this time. He refused Hermione's help and applied the Dittany alone. She had had enough to worry about what with needing to catch up on homework and seeing Madame Pomfrey every day for check-ups. Besides, if she touched him like she had the previous month, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to control himself this time what with her continuously spiking hormones.

"What about this one? It's darling." Lavender held up a tiny pink onesie with a matching flowered headband for Hermione to inspect.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "I already told you. I don't know the gender, so we're looking for neutral colors."

Lavender pouted. "I just don't see how you can stand not knowing. Madame Pomfrey knows, so why don't you want to know?"

"I think some things should be a surprise," Hermione said and turned to a different shelf to look through some knitted blankets in pale yellow and sage green. "I don't know. I'm just undecided. If I change my mind, I'll ask her."

Draco smirked and went back to browsing his chosen rack by the door. Madame Pomfrey wasn't the only one who knew the gender of the baby. Or, at least, Draco was mostly sure he knew the baby's sex simply from how Hermione smelled now.

He sifted through a few scarves absentmindedly, mainly just enjoying the plush feel against his skin. It had only been two days since the full moon, and this was a nice reminder that the world still had gentleness in it when he was still riddled with leftover soreness and pain.

This was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, and Hermione had somehow convinced him to tag along on a shopping trip with her and Lavender. They were currently in a small clothing shop run by a woman who had to be older than Dumbledore. Everything in sight was either sewn, knitted, or crocheted by hand.

"I still don't get why he had to come along," Lavender said. It was meant to be a whisper, and, undoubtedly, the girl didn't expect to be overheard from where she stood with Hermione at the back of the shop. But with Draco's heightened hearing, he heard her as loudly as if she had been standing at his shoulder.

He knew his presence was unwelcome. From the point of view of one of their peers, his and Hermione's newly formed comradery was odd to say the least. As far as anyone knew, he was just a disowned Pureblood who had ceased his reign of bullying. Definitely not a reason to bond with Hermione Granger. And he had tormented plenty of Gryffindors over the years. They had every right to be suspicious of his company.

"I told you," Hermione said. She straightened, one of the pale yellow blankets folded over her arm now. "McGonagall wants us to get along. This is all part of us trying to tolerate each other."

Draco nearly laughed at Hermione's half-truth. Lavender would probably faint if she knew what went on in their lounge. Not that anything scandalous had happened between them - though quite a few times while sitting by Hermione in the firelight with her reading yet another of his Muggle Studies essays over his shoulder, Draco had imagined what it would be like to kiss her. It was those moments when he usually cleared his throat, stood up quickly, and offered to make them both hot chocolate just for something to do that excused him from her presence for a few moments so he could get his head on straight. It was only his lustful wolf side and her pregnancy hormones combined in a perfect storm that was making him have such thoughts, he was sure of it.

Despite Hermione's defense of Draco's company on the shopping trip, he agreed with Lavender that he probably shouldn't be there. Besides, it felt stuffy and slightly claustrophobic in the tiny shop, and he could really use the air. While Hermione was looking at more baby clothes Lavender had taken from the shelves, he silently slipped out the door.

The chilly autumn air seemed to revive him, driving out the stale air of the shop from his lungs. He slipped his hands into his pockets and headed down the village's main street. A butterbeer sounded nice and so did a chocolate frog from Honeydukes. But, he could get those later. There was something he wanted to do while he was alone.

The Shrieking Shack loomed at the end of the lane like a giant phantom, casting a shadow of dark remembrance over the town. When he reached the disheveled fence that barred curious visitors from entering the grounds of the old house, Draco heaved a sigh. He had seen this place on multiple trips into the village, but he had never appreciated it for what it was until he heard Remus's story.

Now, he saw it for what it was - a prison. And standing outside it now made him immensely grateful for the Room of Requirement. At least in the Room, he could ask it for padded walls and flooring to prevent self-inflicted concussions, and he didn't have to worry about breaking through a boarded up window and plummeting several stories.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Draco stiffened. He had been so focused on the Shrieking Shack that he had failed to notice the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Hello, Blaise," he said and turned around. He was not surprised to find that Blaise Zabini, his former friend, was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were pointing their wands at Draco's chest. With a slight twinge of anger, he saw that Pansy Parkinson had her arm looped through Blaise's and was staring at her former boyfriend with a smug expression.

It was unnerving how easily Blaise had slipped into Draco's vacated role. Draco knew from reports from other prefects that Blaise had taken over the role of school bully. Draco had made a point of avoiding him in classes and at mealtimes whenever he could since more and more of Blaise and his posse's attention had recently been focused on making snide remarks at the disgraced Pureblood.

Draco considered drawing his wand. He knew for a fact that he was faster at spells than both Crabbe and Goyle. But, if Blaise or Pansy decided to join the fight, he would be seriously outmatched. Not to mention that the stiffness in his muscles was still present, thus slowing him down.

"What do you want, Blaise?" Draco said with a sigh. He didn't want to talk, and he guessed Blaise didn't want to either. Wouldn't it be best for both of them to just get this over with? Do what they came to do and be done with it.

Blaise shrugged a shoulder. "Why do you think I want something? We were just out for a stroll and stumbled upon filth. Tsk, tsk, I guess your blood just isn't what it used to be, is it? How the mighty have fallen."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Blood status means nothing to me anymore."

"Well, you'd say that, wouldn't you?" Pansy shot at him. She looked him over like he was a bag of rat tails she had found decaying at the bottom of her trunk. "You're hanging with the Granger Mudblood now, aren't-"

Draco's Silencing spell hit Pansy full in the face. He smirked when she grasped at her neck and tried in vain to make any sound come out.

But his victory was short-lived. Goyle's cry of "Sectumsempra!" cut the air, and a moment later, Draco felt as if a blizzard of knives had slammed into his chest. He stumbled backward and tripped, landing flat on his back. Blood began to run from multiple deep gashes in his torso and arms. Already, it was hard to breathe as blood entered his lungs and throat. It suddenly felt like he was back in that bathroom just a few months ago when Potter had attacked him with the same spell. Only there was no Snape or anyone here to heal him this time. There was only the retreating footsteps of his former friends as they ran back up the slope into the village.

* * *

For a moment, Draco was sure he had dreamed up the whole attack. After all, he was now in his own bed back in the castle, not in the Hospital Wing. Or maybe he was dead. No, neither option was possible. The pain in his ribs and throat was enough to debunk both theories.

"You're awake," came a soft, very relieved voice.

He looked around and had to blink a few times before he registered that Hermione was sitting in an armchair next to his bed. She had a Herbology textbook open in her lap, though she closed it and set it aside on his nightstand.

"How are you feeling?"

Draco frowned. "Like I'm lucky to be alive."

"You are," she said. "Lavender and I finished shopping not long after you left. We went looking for you to see if you wanted to join us for some butterbeers. And we saw those Slytherins running away from the Shrieking Shack, laughing. They were talking about you, and I knew something awful must have happened."

Draco huffed out a breath, though he immediately wished he hadn't. It sent a spear of pain through his chest. It seemed that with all his body had been through in the last three or so days, Madame Pomfrey's painkiller potions were having less effect. "It's amazing how short the thread of loyalty is among Purebloods, isn't it?" he asked his ceiling. "I guess that means my old friends are officially all gone. Not like I suspected any different."

"Hey," Hermione said quietly, and he felt her lightly touch his arm. "You have a new friend though. And Gryffindor loyalty goes to the ends of the earth."

Draco turned his head to look at her. He actually managed a smirk. "Are you saying you'd die for me, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked his arm with incredible gentleness. "Don't flatter yourself, Lupin."

He smiled then and carefully pushed himself up to sit. But his smile quickly faded when he looked at her again. From this new angle, he could see that her eyes were red and her eyelashes were damp. "Hermione...are you ok?"

"What? Oh. Yes. Just hormones," she said and wiped at her eyes. "I cry over everything nowadays. It's nothing."

Draco suspected she wasn't telling the truth, but he didn't argue with her. Instead, he poured a goblet of water from the pitcher on his nightstand and sipped at it, letting them drift into silence.

"Do you miss your life before, you know, before the bite?" Hermione asked after several long moments.

Draco lowered his goblet. "Of course. But," he shrugged one shoulder, "I think that, miraculously, some good has come of it too." When she raised an eyebrow, expecting him to elaborate, he added, "It's shown me who my true family and friends are. I can't say much more than that. I've lost a lot. I've lost a whole life, but I'm slowly building a new one, I think."

Hermione nodded solemnly, her gaze distracted as if she was really trying to memorize his words or something.

He hesitated before finally asking, "Do you miss your life...before you were pregnant?"

He immediately regretted asking her as she burst into tears then.

"I'm sorry. I didn't..." He scooted to the edge of the bed so he was right beside her. "I shouldn't have asked."

"N-no, it's f-fine," she said. She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes before taking a deep breath. Tearily, she said, "I just feel guilty...missing it. Because, I have this little baby who I love more than anything about to be born in five or six months, but...there are times when I want to go back to the simplicity of being in our trio just hanging out in the common room or grabbing butterbeers in Hogsmeade. I just wish I could have the best of both. Why couldn't Ron have wanted the baby?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't know how he could do the things he's done."

Hermione clenched her hands into fists on her knees. "Ugh, just...why is he so stupid? He's been cruel. And...and I'm glad I saw this side of him before our relationship got any more serious, I am, but..." She closed her eyes tightly, and Draco had the urge to reach out and pull her close as fresh tears ran down her face. "I miss stupid things about him that aren't even about him specifically."

"I think I know what you mean," Draco said, and this time, he did reach out to her. He took one of her hands in his, which made her look up at him. "Pansy broke up with me in a letter the day after the article from my parents ran in the _Daily Prophet_. I thought I missed her at first, but then I began to realize that I missed the relationship more than her. I liked having a girlfriend. It was nice to be wanted in a romantic way, to be held and kissed."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, and Draco was glad to have made her amused even if it was unintentional. "I don't get how you ended up with Parksinon in the first place."

"Me being with Pansy makes more sense than you being with Weasley."

Hermione scoffed, though it was done playfully. "How so?"

Draco rolled his eyes, but then suddenly found he couldn't look back up at her as the words formed on his tongue. He focused on her hand in his instead, carefully sliding his thumb over the back of her knuckles. "You need someone who challenges you to be the best version of yourself, not who tears you down. You need someone intelligent, who frustrates you in the right ways so you grow, not someone who makes you diminish yourself so they feel better about themselves. Honestly, I thought you'd end up with Potter."

Hermione was silent for a moment and then began to laugh. "I can't wait to tell Harry you think he's intelligent."

Draco's head snapped up, and a undignified sound left his throat. "Don't you dare. I can only face so much humiliation before I combust."

Hermione giggled behind her free hand, her other still resting contently in his. "Fine, I won't." Her expression sobered. "But I guess you're right. I guess Ron is one of those people you date because of proximity. Like because of convenience or something."

"Unfortunately, that's how a lot of our friends and romantic partners start out, from proximity."

"Yeah, but that's not why you stay friends or stay together. You stay together because you both value the other more than you value convenience. You're willing to go out of your way for that person, friend or otherwise."

"Do you think we'll stay friends after graduation?" Draco asked. He found the question passing his lips before he even knew why he had asked it. But, as suddenly as it was out of his mouth, he knew he wanted that answer more than anything.

"Perhaps. We'll have to see."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating increased to M to be safe.

Hermione had just set her Arithmancy essay aside to dry when Draco climbed in through the portrait hole.

"Ok, rounds are done," he said cheerily. "You still not feeling well?"

Hermione shrugged a shoulder. In the past week since Draco's attack in Hogsmeade, he had recovered while her pain had increased. Pregnancy so far had never been comfortable, but now, she had felt enough pressure and tightness in her back that she had asked Draco to do their nightly rounds alone that evening. In his absence, she had seated herself in front of the common room fire to work on homework, hoping that the combined warmth of the fire and the focus of writing would distract her from her pain.

It hadn't.

"Do you need anything? A potion from Madame Pomfrey?" He moved to sit on the sofa closest to her.

Hermione turned back to the fire and shook her head. "No, Madame Pomfrey said I can't take over a certain amount of pain relief potions without posing a threat to me and the baby. I'm at my limit right now."

"Well, what hurts? Maybe you should just focus on resting, you know like lying down and _not_ doing homework at every opportunity."

Hermione scowled, though only the fire could see it. She knew he was just trying to help, but neglecting her homework would just cause her more stress. "I'll be fine. It's just my back."

Draco sighed. "You're so stubborn."

Hermione was ready to retort as being in severe pain did nothing but destroy any good mood she had. But then she heard him shift, and a moment later, he was sitting on the floor behind her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, twisting around to try to see his face. This made her pain worse, and he must have noticed because he gripped her shoulders and turned her so she was facing the fire again.

"Just relax, ok?"

But relaxing was the last thing on Hermione's mind right then. Did he not remember the intimate moments they had shared over the past month and a half? When she put the Dittany on his wounds and felt a thread connect them for the briefest moment. When she sat close to read his Muggle Studies essays and could smell the tiniest hint of his cologne. When they had spoken just last week in his room after his attack and they had each revealed so much of their vulnerabilities.

She was not blind to the fact that there was something growing between them that was more than friendship. And from the way he behaved sometimes, she was sure he had noticed it too. But she was still uncertain about pursuing it further, and it had seemed this was an unspoken agreement between them. But now, if he put his hands on her...

Her heart seemed to stop when she felt his thumbs press gently into the small of her back. His hands rested on her hips, and he slowly began to work his thumbs into the tension at the base of her spine.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked after a few minutes.

She wasn't surprised he asked this as she felt stiff as a board with nerves as his hands were progressing up her back. "No, I'm fine."

"Is this helping at all?"

"A bit."

* * *

Draco knew she was lying. Being a werewolf came with many new skills, one of which allowed him to sense muscle tension much better than any human eye or hand. Remus had explained it as a hunting instinct where the muscle tension of prey could be watched to sense when and how one's prey would move.

Not like Draco was treating Hermione like prey. But he could sense her urge to flee increasing.

He withdrew his hands from her and sat back. When she turned a bit to pin him with a questioning look, he simply said, "You don't like it when I touch you. I'm making you uncomfortable."

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "That's...half right."

Draco raised an eyebrow. He hated the thought of either of those things being true. "How can only one of those statements be true and not the other?"

Still, she didn't look at him. She seemed much more interested in the pattern of the sofa cushions to his right. Finally, she said, "I like the touch, but I'm not able to relax."

Draco felt his hands grow warm, as if the confession of her liking his touch made his hands light with a fiery desire to touch her more. He swallowed and sat forward a bit. "Are you stopping yourself from relaxing?" he whispered.

Her gaze snapped back to his. "I..."

"Let yourself relax," he continued softly. He could sense an irrational, needy arousal building in his body as he thought about touching her more, even if it was only to relieve her back pain. "Just for tonight, let yourself be touched. Let me touch you."

She held his gaze for a moment longer, and he was afraid she would laugh or yell at him for such a bold suggestion. But, to his great surprise, she began undoing the buttons on her jumper.

He watched her with much more eagerness than was reasonable, but he could feel it - his wolf instincts lying just beneath the surface and craving skin-to-skin contact. He had to dig his nails into the rug underneath them to keep himself from lunging forward when she slid the cardigan from her shoulders and deposited it on the nearby ottoman. Her torso was now only hidden beneath a thin, silky camisole.

When she turned so her back was to him once again, Draco maneuvered himself so that she was seated between his legs. She was much closer this way.

He placed his hands on her hips as he had done earlier and slowly slid his thumbs along her spine. She let out an almost inaudible sigh, and he felt her begin to relax.

Several minutes passed, and Draco's hands moved gradually up her back as he worked through her tight muscles. By the time he reached her upper back, she had relaxed so much that it seemed he was holding her up from collapsing back against his chest.

"Feel good?" he asked softly.

"Mhmm," she hummed. She pressed back against his fingers and sighed softly.

Draco smiled. He had never seen her like this - unguarded. He loved it. She had actually allowed herself to be completely vulnerable with him. It somehow aroused him even more.

He swallowed now. It was getting harder and harder to restrain himself. The softness of her body, the beating of her heart, and her hormones seemed to sing to him like a siren.

Hesitantly, he slid his hands up to her shoulders. Touching her bare skin felt like electricity, and he suspected she felt it too because her shoulders immediately pushed back into his hands before sagging, almost like a sign of submission.

Encouraged by this, he drew her back against his chest and swept her hair back from her neck. He lowered his mouth to her ear. "May I touch more of you?"

She gave a nod, and he could tell he had made her breathless with this question.

"Tell me if I do anything you don't like."

He lowered his mouth to her neck and paved a path of kisses from her jaw to her shoulder. As these kisses progressed, he felt the pace of her pulse surge.

Clearly, Draco was not the only one enjoying himself. Of course, they had discussed how they both missed the physical intimacy of being in a relationship, and no doubt it was this fact that was mainly driving their interaction now. But that thought did nothing to lessen his arousal.

Rather, the urge to strip her and lay her bare before the fire was intensifying. With such great restraint that his hands shook, he took the hem of her camisole and began to pull it up. His hands slid over the smooth round of her belly, and a millisecond of sorrow cut in. If only she was his mate and that baby was his cub. But the thought did not take hold or leave an impression on his consciousness.

Instead, his arousal reached new heights as his hands found her breasts. They filled his hands perfectly, and he immediately began to coax her nipples into small tight buds.

The whine that left Hermione sent electricity through Draco's groin. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, her eyes closing. Her hands covered his, pressing them hard against her breasts. "Don't stop," she breathed.

"Wasn't planning on it," he returned in kind. "I want more."

She hummed and nudged his leg with her knee. It took him a moment to realize this was incredibly intentional. Looking down at her then, it was evident she had opened her legs to him.

Now, he could smell her arousal, and he was somewhat shocked his erection hadn't popped a seam in his slacks yet. All hesitation gone, he slid his hands under her skirt.

* * *

When Hermione woke the next morning, she was briefly confused as to why her Gryffindor tapestries and bed hangings had changed to reflect a Slytherin allegiance. Then she remembered the events of the previous night and how Draco had ended up carrying her to his bed just before he took her with such strength and passion that she had been left trembling in delight by the time they collapsed to the warmth of the sheets.

She sat up and looked over at the blond. He was still sleeping soundly. She didn't want to wake him, and she knew she should go. Though she had enjoyed herself immensely, a pang in her chest violently reminded her that their moment to surrender to their passions was over. If he woke up alone, maybe they could avoid most of the awkwardness that was sure to follow. She hoped that this would not tarnish their friendship.

Being as quiet as possible, Hermione slipped out of the bed. She retrieved a towel from his bathroom's linen closet and wrapped it around herself. Though she could have walked naked to her room, she wasn't going to risk it. Dobby often came to deliver her morning potions to her in bed, and several people knew the password to their dormitory for emergency purposes.

Her foresight was rewarded. As soon as she shut Draco's bedroom door and turned to the common room, her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.

Harry stood by one of the sofas, taking in the sight of hastily discarded clothes scattered across the floor. The Marauder's Map was clutched tightly in his hand. When he looked up at her, she couldn't even begin to decipher the emotions in his expression.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and kudos are much appreciated! :D


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